I enter you, the truthfulness of the dark.
I want proofs of darkness, want to drink the black wine: Take my eyes and crush them. A drop of night on your breast’s tip: mysteries of the carnation. Closing my eyes I open them inside your eyes. Always awake on its garnet bed: your wet tongue. There are fountains in the garden of your veins. With a mask of blood I cross your thoughts blankly: amnesia guides me to the other side of life.
~
Octavio Paz